


the Snake & the Badger

by orphan_account



Category: Daredevil (TV), Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, M/M, No Spoilers, School Life, Swearing, Train journey, bad language, minor depictions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-22
Updated: 2017-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-05 15:40:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4185408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Orphaned] A story about Matt Murdock and Foggy Nelson as they adjust to and endure the unexpected life of students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Matt & Foggy (1st Year)

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first EVER posted fic. Look at me, an adult who has never put anything online before - "it's because they're shit!"
> 
> From the fic's title you can infer that I plan to place Matt in Slytherin and Foggy in Hufflepuff. I decided to keep them both American because that's what they are. I may include another chapter with how they meet Karen but that will be later.
> 
> Also I am indeed an English person writing American characters so if I put anything that an American would never say then I (don't care) apologise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Matt Murdock meets Foggy Nelson is on the train to Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I based this a little bit on how they first meet in the show.
> 
> EDIT: so it turns out there was a bit missing at the beginning so I switched my laptop on in the middle of the night to sort it

There was one more carriage left at the end of the corridor and it was complete empty, except for one person sat by the window. Matt could hear their feet swinging back and forth and they breathed like someone relaxed and calm. That was a good sign, right? Relaxed people were usually nice. Although that might still change when Matt appeared since he thought all the other people in the previous carriages hadn’t shown immediate signs of disliking his company.

Maybe it was all the faff with his stick or perhaps Matt looked more like a loser than the nuns at the orphanage had insisted he didn’t but no one of this screaming train wanted to share the journey to Hogwarts with him. It was becoming very disheartening and a moving vehicle like this was pretty difficult to manoeuvre around on with everything changing every five seconds. The world had began to make him dizzy, so Matt wanted to sit down already before he did something even more stupid like faint.

It would be very nice if this carriage was the one he could finally do that in.

Matt, deciding to avoid more embarrassed at his lack of friendship skills, skipped all the other carriages and headed straight for this end one. Getting near it, there was indeed just one person sat alone like his senses had first interpreted. Even after two years everything remained so hard to process.

Cautiously Matt slide the carriage door open. ‘Um… excuse me, is this carriage full?’

‘Nope,’ the person said. ‘Who are you looking for?’ They must have not being looking at Matt straight away. Instantly realising their mistake, by the expression on Matt’s face, the person then added, ‘oh, sorry.’ They shifted awkwardly.

‘What for?’ Matt said, still leaning in through the door while hoping no one was currently heading up the corridor.

‘You’re blind aren’t you?’

‘So they tell me.’ The train abruptly moved around a corner and Matt’s head almost collided violently with the wooden door frame. He really needed to sit down. ‘Do you mind if I sit in here with you?’

‘Yeah, sure,’ they said. Then hastily they added, ‘I mean “I don’t mind” as in “yes, come inside and sit down.”’

Honestly, Matt hadn’t waited for them to correct themselves or whatever, the moment he heard a “yeah,” he was inside the carriage and down on a seat. Incidentally this meant he was now placed next to the person and not opposite them, as first desired, which was a bit awkward because he didn’t know who this person was yet and being so close so soon was uncomfortable.

The perfect moment to introduce himself then. Matt held out a hand into the space next to him. ‘Matt Murdock,’ he said.

Thankfully the person had got the correct message with the hand and briefly shook Matt’s before saying, ‘Foggy Nelson, a boy, eleven, same age as you, I guess.’ He stopped but Matt didn’t speak next because his breathing told him, Foggy still had more to say. ‘Wait, Matt Murdock… I’ve heard that name before and your accent… Are you from America?’

‘Yep, born and raised.’ Matt nodded.

‘Not Hell’s Kitchen, New York?’ Foggy’s heart rate increased with what Matt assumed was excitement, as to why he didn’t know.

‘Indeed.’

This made Foggy’s heartbeat increase more. ‘So am I!’ he said. ‘I heard about you. What you did, saving that man crossing the street.’

Matt had never met anyone before who recognised him for that reason, although he’d not met many people altogether. ‘Oh I just did what anyone would have,’ he said.

‘Bullocks! You, my man, are a hero. Come on, you got your peepers knocked out trying to save some old dude. That’s cool, man.’ Foggy elbowed his arm lightly.

‘They didn’t get knocked out,’ Matt corrected, gently.

‘Oh, phew because they would have been slightly freaky. Uh, no offence!’ the air shifted and Matt assumed Foggy held up his hand.

‘Please none taken. Uh… Most of the other kids seemed to have danced around me like I’m made of glass. I hate it.’

‘Yeah you’re just a boy right? A really cute-looking boy.’

‘Oh um…’ Matt had no idea how to respond to that. He’d only just met Foggy and was too young for a boyfriend anyway.

‘I mean,’ Foggy said to his silence, ‘all the other kids are just preoccupied with school jitters if they didn’t see that.’ The tension in Foggy’s body, Matt had only just noticed, began to ease away. He exhaled a deep breath before speaking again, ‘so what house do you think you’ll get? I was hoping for Gryffindor but I guess I could settle for Hufflepuff.’

‘Um,’ Matt frowned, ‘what are you talking about?’

‘The Houses at Hogwarts…’ Matt still didn’t understand so Foggy continued, ‘which you get sorted into once you get there,’ then realised, ‘do you not know?’

‘I couldn’t exactly read the letter they sent me,’ Matt said, amusingly. The nuns had read most of it for him. The less liberal ones that is. In fact if it wasn’t for the wizard, who delivered the letter personally, convincing Mother Jones it would only get worse if his “wizarding skills” remained untrained, Matt didn’t think he would be going to Hogwarts at all.

Foggy laughed instead of flinching from that comment, another nice sign. ‘Good thing you’ve got me then.’ He smelt like sweat and porridge, also nice. ‘I’m muggle-born myself but there’s a boy in my apartment block who says he went to Hogwarts too so that’s why my parents have sent me abroad.’ He shifted on his seat, making his voice louder and closer. ‘Basically they have four houses which you get sorted into once you arrive.’ Foggy’s breathing slowed like he was concentrating very hard on something. The air shifted again; his hands were back up. ‘Gryffindor. Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw. And Slytherin.’ Matt figured he must be counting them off on his fingers. ‘Gryffindor is the brave house, only the courageous go there. Hufflepuff is for the hard working and loyal. Ravenclaw is where all the smart people end up. And Slytherin is for the ambitious and pure-blooded. Although apparently that changed a few years ago and not everyone got the memo.’

It was a lot of information to take in all at once, but over the two years blinded, Matt had grow used to not being able to physically record things. ‘What did the boy in your apartment block get?’

‘Oh, I think he said Slytherin, maybe Hufflepuff,’ Foggy said. ‘I wasn’t really paying attention after he mentioned all the houses. That was enough to sell me, to be honest. But if I had to say it was probably Gryffindor the way he went on about it. In fact, talked about it until my Mother asked him to leave.’

Matt smiled. Foggy was talking to him like he wanted Matt to hear everything he had to say. It was nice and Foggy was nice. He would make a good friend, Matt hoped, although at this point he felt too presumptuous. Either way Matt certainly liked Foggy. He gave off a good impression for sure despite the rejection he’d received from the other kids.

‘So which house do you think you get into then?’ Foggy said.

‘I guess I’ll just have to see,’ Matt said. ‘Not fugitively.’

‘Of course.’ Again, Foggy laughed. Yes, Matt liked him a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is un-beta-ed so sorry for any mistakes. I'll sort it out when I can bare to read my work again.


	2. not to seem in love so early (1st Year)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt and Foggy spend a moment in one of the courtyards at Hogwarts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The summaries are clearly not my best forte - maybe I'll get better
> 
> I realise now I kinda forgot about Matt's glasses in the last chapter, his stick as well, so I guess Foggy can remember them for me.
> 
> I'm so worried I'm being an ableist jerk with this chapter.
> 
> I added a few non-magical classes to the Hogwarts curriculum because it takes more than 11 years to learn all the essential skills needed for life from Maths and English etc.
> 
> Dean is a bit of a bratboy (but Foggy is still too young to be using that word)

Foggy will never forget the first time he saw Matt without his glasses on.

It had been a month since their first meeting on the Hogwarts Express and to his surprise the flames of their friendship burned brighter than ever. Although Foggy figured it may have something to do with the fact it was too early for either of them to know anyone else here. This meant they took any and all opportunities to hang out together – a school this large could be very intimidating for two eleven year old boys especially considering one was blind and the other was a Hufflepuff. And during one of those hang out events at lunch, Foggy noticed he was yet to see Matt without those red-tinted shades.

His glasses were small and circular and reminded Foggy of legendary wizard Harry Potter – he’d been doing some extra catching up on his History of Magic outside class. Since Matt was Slytherin, whenever he saw him the glasses were on and Foggy assumed that Matt had better things on his mind, adjusting to a large building he couldn’t see an inch of, to bother making sure his glasses were clean or not broken – or anything that would involve taking them off and revealing his eyes.

So there they were, sat out in the grassy courtyard where a large metal globe thing resided in the centre, one which Foggy had attempted to describe to Matt on multiple occasions. Matt had just come from charms and Foggy was out from English. Unlike the muggle world, the wizarding world seemed more than obliged to make Braille school books, so Matt was skimming over one, cross legged and book in lap, while Foggy enjoyed the last warmth of the Summer Sun before Winter arrived.

Matt had taught himself to read, he’d informed Foggy, when the crisp white pages first caught his eye and had gladly explained the whole concept to the Hufflepuff. To be honest, Foggy hadn’t even been aware there existed a way for blind people to read; he lived a sheltered life he argued. Matt didn’t seem offended, however; the reason he taught himself was because there was no one else to teach him.

A cloud moved over the Sun and Foggy glanced to where Matt was stationed at his left. This was when he noticed. Frankly, Foggy would never ask voluntarily, _they’d only just met_ and Matt’s glasses were his business but he attempted he was curious. Matt said they weren’t “knocked out” so that left the band wagon open for what else lay under the red glass.

Who was he kidding? That simply meant there were still eyes under there. But what colour? Did he even have those whites sections around the iris anymore?

‘Foggy.’ Matt said. ‘Are you watching me?’

‘No.’ Bushing, Foggy turned sharply before remembering Matt couldn’t see either action. ‘I just glanced at you for a moment and _then_ got lost in thought. No need to get any good ideas.’

‘Ideas like what?’ Matt tilted his head up.

Why wouldn’t he just drop it and return to his book? It was nothing. A mistake. In fact Matt had put the book away now and moved his full attention to Foggy.

The heat slowly rose across his cheeks, he said, ‘ideas that are good, where the end result is a large slab of big bummed goodness.’

Matt sighed and then said, ‘Foggy, is everything alright?’

Foggy regarded him for a second. He exhaled. ‘This boy on my table in English was being a crapface in class today. Especially towards me.’

The Sun returned and shone brightly over Matt’s head and face, giving off the illusion for a moment he possessed a halo. ‘Is this the the same boy who pointed out to everyone in your history class you had no idea who Professor Dumbledore was?’

‘You bet,’ Foggy said.

Matt thought about that for a moment. He reached out for his stick resting with his bag and other Braille books. Picking it up and replacing it from the book, he began to fiddle with the strap on the handle. ‘He doesn’t sound nice. What was his name again?’

‘Dean Winchester.’ Foggy’s eyes adjusted to the sunlight and he caught a glimpse of a shape behind those glasses as Matt’s face shifted downwards and the light shone through them. ‘You know what would make me feel better?’ he said.

Matt’s head shot up from the direction of his stick. ‘What?’

‘Well, I was just wondering if I could…’ here goes, ‘if I could see what you looked like without your glasses on?’

‘Sure.’ And then Matt’s hand was moving up and like that the glasses were off. He acted as if it were something so simple, not… whatever it was Foggy had over-envisioned it could be. The glasses were down, he kept them in his hand, and now was the chance.

Well, Foggy looked and Matt’s eyes were… _normal_.

Like obviously not “normal” normal because there was no such thing but nothing seemed odd about them in any way shape or form. No odd colours. The white thingys still present. They were a little unfocused, directed towards the space just to the right of Foggy, but that was a given considering his blindness. In the end nothing special.

Foggy smiled, ‘cool.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘I meant you looked cool, without them on.’

‘Thanks, I guess.’ There was a pause while neither knew where to go next. Eventually Matt said ‘can I put them back on now?’

‘If you want.’ The nanosecond Foggy finished his sentence Matt’s hand moved back up again. ‘Does it make you uncomfortable or something?’ he said, concerned he’d managed to offend Matt.

‘Not really. But, like on the train, they are a rather large give away on the condition of my vision. Avoids any misunderstandings.’

‘Like whether you’re peeping at a girl’s chest or not,’ Foggy suggested.

It had the intended effect. Matt couldn’t hold back his smile. ‘Foggy, girls our age are too young to be developing…’ he wiggled his head forward and Foggy could tell he did so because he didn’t want to say the word, ‘…you know.’

‘Boobies,’ Foggy said quietly.

Pause. They both sniggered immaturely.

‘Yeah but teachers will still have them,’ Foggy said, objectively.

Matt remained quiet for a moment, just gave an agreeing smile. Then he said, ‘I think I’m a bit too short for that.’

‘You could be looking upwards—’ idiot, ‘or, uh, have your eyes directed that way,’ Foggy said.

‘No way. Have you ever tried resting your eyes while looking up?’ Matt said, beginning to collect together his stuff now.

Foggy was about to question him when he realised the end of lunch would be soon and therefore did the same. He had transfiguration next and Professor Hale might bark this time if Foggy was late again. ‘I guess not.’

They packed up the rest of their things in silence and Foggy didn’t speak again until they were both standing and ready to part ways. ‘Matt, you don’t have to answer this if you don’t want to I was just curious but did it hurt when you lost your sight? Like I can’t imagine it was painless as most things aren’t but was it unbearable?’

Matt took a while to answer and eventually Foggy figured he wouldn’t so was about to say never mind when he spoke, ‘it hurt, yes, but I think adjusting was the hardest part. I think I struggled to find the strength to move forward.’

Foggy wouldn’t see Matt’s eyes again for awhile but the next time he did, he instantly thought of that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read one of the earlier comics, while surfing for Marvel comics in Waterstones, and there’s a bit where this dude gives Foggy a black eye. So what does Matt do? Takes the dude out of his bed in the middle of the night, ties him up and leaves him NAKED outside in the snow. Like seriously Matt? Did he have to be naked? Could you not achieve the revenge you wanted without removing clothing?
> 
> And I thought Stucky was gay... Moral of the story: Matt is VERY protective of his friend Foggy.


	3. C’mon, Matty. Get To Work. (4th Year)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Matt's first night out as the Man in the Mask

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is the shittest bit so far, compared to the shit that came before it, but this is as good as I can get the chapter without rewriting it completely, uhhh...
> 
> It's just easier to be critical of my work than try to think it is good. I am a terrible writer but putting my work online has got me writing again so that means something at least
> 
> Matt is meant to be 15 here and I'm not doing the chapters in chronological order. Don't worry if you wanted me to do years 2-4
> 
> ALSO: I changed the rating to account for the violence in this chapter

Anyone who was anyone knew Mrs. Cardenas had worked her arse off to get where she was now. She’d spent years of her life slaving night and day to pay off the loans used to keep _Mrs. C’s Kitchen_ in business. There had been no time for sick days; she hadn’t had a holiday since her childhood. Her resilience knew no bounds. When bad weather had delayed the next shipment, Mrs. Cardenas turned her own kitchen upside-down and made the leftover sweets needed herself, as well as living up to the shop name. When rats had potentially infested her storage room, she stayed up from dusk until dawn to catch all of the critters single-handedly so they could be humanely released somewhere else. She’d even mastered the Heimlich manoeuvre in case someone choked on a jawbreaker, for crying out loud.

Anyone who was anyone knew Mrs. Cardenas was determined. She was the best.

But now… now all of that effort could be thrown down the drain because of a few late night robberies. Whoever these crooks were they were organised, spending their time robbing Mrs. Cardenas effectively and worst of all efficiently. Six boxes had already gone missing in the last three days. Anymore and Mrs. Cardenas would be out of business for certain

Matt couldn’t let all those years go to waste. It didn’t matter what the consequences were, he just couldn’t. It didn’t feel right, when every vessel of his body was screaming out to help. Several other shops down the street had been robbed as well but _Mrs. C’s Kitchen_ felt personal, somehow.

His teachings from Stick were a little rusty, yet nothing a day of training and muscle memory couldn’t improve on. It resulted in some sore legs and shoulders but Mrs. Cardenas’ shop needed help now. A good night’s rest would have to wait.

As he had envisioned a million times before, Matt acted normal until lights out, enjoying Saturday dinner with Foggy and chattering with his fellow dorm room friends. Concentrating on their heartbeats, it took a few good hours for everyone to finally fall asleep.

Then Matt made his move.

The Slytherin common room was easy as pie to slip out from, and several favours here and there had earned him the knowledge to a secret escape passage route from Hogwarts directly to Hogsmeade. Luckily his bribing hadn’t been in vain and the knowledge turned out to be true, the exit of the tunnel opening up in the basement of a sweet shop.

Dressed in an all-black attire and black hood stretching over his forehead and covering the top half of his head, Matt made his way up the stairs of this shop that he then discovered to be conveniently opposite to _Mrs. C’s Kitchen_. Obviously Matt had not revealed the means to which he’d planned to act on his knowledge of the secret passage route but convenient placement of sweet shops was convenient indeed. To avoid setting off any alarms there may be by pick-locking the door, he slipped out a side window instead and headed quickly over to the back entrance of Mrs. Cardenas’ building.

A heartbeat on the top floor told him Mrs. Cardenas was just as asleep as everybody else at this time of night. All except Matt and the robbers of course. Well… hopefully.

The thing was Matt wasn’t entirely sure they would show up tonight. Or ever again for that matter. The gossip on these robberies _had_ been dying down recently. Plus similar rumours were even sprouting from the nearby town so that could be taken as a sign they’d moved on. Regardless, Matt couldn’t admit defeat, not when he’d already spent two hours waiting outside Mrs. Cardenas’ by now. No, admitting defeat would be pointless because—

_ACHOO!_

Because he already had a cold. That was decided, Matt was heading home. Damn, the cold January air and his choice of thin clothing – he figured the fighting would heat him up enough and wearing too much would make him smell too sweaty the next day. Rubbing his arms to generate some heat and hide his shame, he plodded back over to the sweet shop opposite _Mrs. C’s Kitchen_.

In fact, Matt was just musing at his decision to keep the window open when a section of noises a few buildings down caught his attention. Quickly he darted into the shadows before making his way over to investigate.

Five… no. Six people were the cause of the commotion, and all but one of them was enjoying it. Additionally, the odd one out appeared to be considerably younger than the other five. If truth be told, they were about the same age as Matt himself. What was the luck they were also a student of Hogwarts? Matt bet himself an extra piece of school dinner pie they were. He needed a way to cheer himself up after the time he’d wasted.

Two of the five older noise makers had the younger one pinned to a wall while another two were rifling through something made of a leathery material – possibly belonging to _Hopefully Potential Hogwarts Student_ – and the fifth was slowly wondering over to the youngest.

Leaning against the wall at the entrance to noisemakers’ alleyway, Matt tuned into the fifth one’s voice.

‘…I mean,’ they said. Their voice was deep so predictably it belonged to a cisgendered male – still Matt’s rule of pronouns remained for assholes as well unfortunately. ‘Doesn’t your school have like rules about being out of bounds so late into the night?’

Yay, a piece of pie coming up for one Matt Murdock! But also potential knuckle sandwich for the young student in the corner.

‘I should know I go there too in fact.’

Okay, admittedly that part was unexpected.

This also implied the other four were potential students as well. Perhaps Matt’s prediction of it being a rare occurrence to sneak out late at night had been gravely wrong.

The youngest squealed and immediately Matt’s jovial attitude faded. He listened carefully to their heartbeat now, honed into every aspect of their body language. Fast heart rate, quick suction of breaths through the nostrils, and trembling in the hands and knees. This person was terrified.

The feeling piped up again. Just like before when Mrs. Cardenas talked about losing her business the previous week. Matt had to help. It wouldn’t be right not to.

Okay.

The noisemakers were older – possibly Year 6 or 7 – so they had the advantage of age and size. The best thing to do would be to get some height on these people first, gain the advantage back. The roof dipped to his right, so Matt ran along the front of the building and leaped onto its ledge, heaved himself up and slipped silently over it until the group resided below.

‘Now rules are always put in for a reason,’ the fifth noisemaker said. ‘If you’d followed these rules like a good little girl we wouldn’t been in this mess right now would we? Although someone else would be instead. You’re saving that someone else the trouble. You can take light in that at least.’

‘Go to hell,’ the youngest said, reluctant.

The fifth’s hand flicked towards the two with the leathery material and one got up moved over to the youngest and raised their fist.

‘Hey!’ Matt shouted and he felt them all still. ‘If you’re so up for following rules, there’s also one about not hitting people.’

 _Which I am also about to break_ , he thought as he dived off the roof and landed on the largest of the four noisemakers, bar this mouthy fifth.

His notion of not leaving time to react worked well to Matt’s favour and he managed to surprise this large noisemaker long enough to get a good grip around their neck. As predicted they then began swinging around in an attempt to knock Matt off. He used the momentum of this to get one of the other noisemakers on the mouth with his foot before his shirt was grabbed by the back collar and he was flung forward. Landing not too hard against the stone wall, Matt instantly flipped to his feet and charged at the largest, knocking them into the one behind, the weight of which knocked them both to the floor and kept them there. Abruptly Matt took a punch to the teeth and the taste of iron tickled his tongue.

Moving swiftly to side, he found another noisemaker and, smelling the whiff of leather on their fingertips, filled their cheeks with several good punches. Then he grabbed them by the shirt and used them to fling his leg up and into another one’s face. A bony crack indicated he’d chipped their jaw, which made up for the punch they’d given. Once grounded again, Matt shoved the last noisemaker back against a wall and right-hocked them onto their arse.

Breathing at a satisfactory level for all four noisemakers, finally Matt turned his attention to the fifth, who was still stood in the same place as they were previously.

‘Well, that was certainly… something,’ they said. ‘But what does it achieve? Besides a headache for my… boss?’

Matt pointed towards the youngest, curled up on the floor now, crying. ‘Leave…’ _huff_ , ‘them alone.’

‘You could have just asked.’ He didn’t need to see to know the fifth’s face was smug.

‘And give them their stuff back.’ Slowly getting his breath back, Matt took a few steps towards the fifth. He honed into their body language now and it caused him to frown.

They weren’t afraid. Not in the slightest. Must have seen worse, he guessed, irritated.

‘The stuff is ours, actually.’

 _Lair_.

Matt stayed there for a moment, supposedly staring at them, to try and imply he was looking at this noisemaker like he didn’t believe them. But the intimidation couldn’t last long since a few of the others were staying to get back up again.

‘We’re leaving now.’ He pointed at the youngest. ‘Gather your things,’ when they didn’t moved he said firmer, ‘ _do_ it.’

That got them on their feet, at least, and made the fifth jump, which was certainly satisfying as Matt’s anger thought it could be. But this oncoming cold was making it hard for Matt to give a fuck at the current second. The youngest took a rather trying amount of time to put their things together, yet, luckily for Matt’s patience, they were heading down the alleyway just as the largest noisemaker had gathered to their bearings.

Matt followed in suit. When they were both well out of range of the noisemakers he grabbed the young person by the arm and said, ‘come with me.’

Their heartbeat continued to ease up, signalling they weren’t scared of him as they were with the noisemakers, so Matt decided to follow through with taking them to the window he’d slipped out of at the beginning of the night. Linking his hands, he helped the person into the sweet shop, then leaped inside himself, and, after carefully closing the window again, led them down into cellar where the passage back to Hogwarts was.

He lifted up a slab of stone and pointed to the darkness underneath. ‘This leads back to Hogwarts.’

The person shifted on the spot instead of getting in the _fucking_ hole. ‘What about you?’ they said.

Matt resisted the urge to sigh. ‘I’m going to stay here,’ he lied, ‘make sure those people are being true to their word.’ He knew that was the right thing to do but his cold had begun to fill his nose with snot at this point. He could hear his bed calling all the way from over here. Plus catching up on the amount of days off from this illness would be punishment enough for his sins about the situation.

The person nodded and started to climb down into the tunnel. Once inside Matt resealed the entrance, yet even through the thick stone he still heard the young person whisper a gentle ‘thank you.’

Matt smiled, waited for what felt like half an hour before following. He made it back to his bed just in time before the fatigue took over too much that his navigation skills were transformed to a _non-super-powered_ blind teenager. The air stung his exposed skin as he quickly changed next to his bed – originally he’d used a broom cupboard to do this in, but the fatigue had said otherwise. Pulling the covers up to his ears, Matt drifted off to sleep wondering what justification he would have to use on Foggy tomorrow morning.

At least he had the pie to look forward to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a bad idea (my whole life was a bad idea)


	4. (unfinished stuff) [follows straight on from previous chapter]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, Matt is 15 here, so it's not completely weird he's in a relationship with Natasha (not that I care about a non-lesbian!Natasha anymore...)

He had a split lip. Amongst other things. A few bruises on his chest and legs, most likely he would have got them from manoeuvring about the buildings rather than the fight. Either way, they were nothing. Easy to cover up, easy to excuse. But this split lip that was whole other kettle of fish.

Matt could feel it, even with the light cold, just as he had began to wake up in the morning. The blood had run down his chin in the night and dried on his skin. He spat on two fingers, cleaning it away. The other heart beats around him were all calm indicating he was the only one up at this point. He wanted to reach out from under the covers and tap his phone so it would say the time. However, some of the kids in his dorm room complained it spoke too loudly and often woke them up. Even though he cared not for their inconsideration at the fact he had no way of knowing the time without audio of some form, Matt was in no mood to draw attention to himself.

Sighing he rolled over, away from the phone and let his face sink into the mattress. Why was he so annoyed at himself for getting hit, when the whole point of him going out last night _was_ to start a fight? Still, he couldn’t help acknowledge the shame, whose blunt claws ran down his exposed back. Only bothering to put on a pair of PJ bottoms the night before, Matt thought it best he got up now so to avoid the other kids from seeing his bruises.

He relished the last moments of warmth under his duvet and then quickly flung it off him before he convinced himself otherwise. Matt changed into an (apparently) black sweater and jeans, made his bed, and headed down into the common room after retrieving his stick, where it had been propped up against his chest of drawers.

The Slytherin common room was empty, meaning no one from any of other years were up as well, and Matt continued to remain without means to tell the time since the world looked on fire regardless of whether anyone else could see clearly it or not. A bit of fear began to pool in the bottom of his stomach as to how early it could be and if he should have simply gone back to sleep. But then he remembered he must have gone to bed pretty late the night prior, so he doubted his exhausted body would have only slept a short amount of time for it to still be early.

Thankfully a few moments after Matt slumped himself down on the common room sofa, someone began to stir his senses with their movement. They put on fresh clothes, and then made their way out of their dorm and into the common room.

They beelined straight towards Matt and he soon felt cool arms wrap themselves around his shoulders and lips kiss his forehead. ‘Morning,’ Natasha Romanoff said, her voice low from sleep.

Matt smiled and let his head fall back in acknowledgement of her presence. He tensed suddenly when thin strips of cold metal ran down the sides of his face before realising Natasha was putting on his glasses.

‘You forgot your glasses, Matty,’ she said before kissing his forehead too, and then moving away, presumably to come sit down beside him.

Matt heard her pause by the lamp placed on a table beside the sofa. She flicked it on and abruptly her heartbeat began to increase. ‘Matt, your face,’ she said, immediately sitting down next to him and raising her hands to his head.

¬

‘What’s got you in a good mood, Mr. Murdock?’

Foggy’s question only seemed to make him smirk more. Or perhaps it had something to do with the fact Matt had finished the potions homework which Foggy hadn’t even started yet because his latest comic was out and all his attention had been diverted to that. Plus the homework was due in for next lesson.

Matt Michael Murdock. What have you done to your face? _Foggy._

Here. _Matt_.

Here what? _Foggy._

Have my work. _Matt_.

No, Matt… I couldn’t. I didn’t do it and I must face the consequences. _Foggy._

You’re a straight A student, Foggy. Your parents will give you trouble for the next month. _Matt_.

I will deal with it. _Foggy._

They won’t let you have another comic until Summer. _Matt_.

There is that. Matt, are you _really_ sure? _Foggy._

Just promise me that if the comic wasn’t there, you would have done it. _Matt_.

Totally. What are you gonna do? Matt, I doubt they are going to let you off homework just because you’re blind. _Foggy._

Exactly. Which is why I will simply do another one before the lesson. I can say we did it together that’s why they’re _both_ printed off. _Matt_.

In five minutes? Matt, you’re a superhero. _Foggy._


	5. Outtake fics in the same universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Whoever Said A Crowd Was A Bad Thing?
> 
> Peter never believed he would be the most popular kid at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry but by his fifth year, he certainly didn’t expect the amount of friends he would have now.  
>  Gamora, Groot, Rocket, and Drax make up Peter’s collection of seemingly consenting buddies and, despite everything, they look like they’re here to stay. Pretty Cool.  
>  All they need now is a clique name.
> 
> ¬
> 
> Light Feet.
> 
> Natalia was sold at birth and trained all her life to do one thing. Kill. But after she is recovered by the Barton family, and even befriends their youngest son, she is sent off to Hogwarts and soon realises her hardest journey has only just begun. Recovery.  
>  Becoming Natasha will be a long road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I deleted these cos of the lack of attention and a bad comment
> 
> Whoever Said A Crowd Was A Bad Thing?: [I buy too many comics and I really like the latest Guardians of the Galaxy stuff so this is partly based off that version of the characters but also includes influences from the film. Comic Peter is a lot better looking than film him, no offense Chris Pratt.]
> 
> Light Feet: [This is indeed a part of the same universe as my Matt/Foggy fic; Natasha had a relationship with Matt in the comics so that's probably gonna happen at some point. This was meant to be longer but I got impatient and decided to upload the bit that was finished now. Some of this was written while waiting for my friend to do her Theory Test]

**Whoever Said A Crowd Was A Bad Thing? - Hot Damn (5th Year)**

The Sun shone mercilessly over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. So hot, it practically melted the atmosphere, making it humid enough to encourage layers of sweat to form all over the skin.

While distracted by the whizzing motion of the Ravenclaw players on the field, Peter set down the heavy plastic cooler full of large water bottles on the table set up to hold such an object. He watched, in his shorts and vest top, Gamora soar across the sky before landing gently onto the ground only a few feet away. Her attire choice, which consisted of jodhpurs, a shirt, then a vest over the top of that, boots with full length knee pads and a body long blue coat, had clearly been a ridiculous idea. Since she too possessed that uncomfortable layer of sweat over her face and possible back but it didn’t show through the blue coat.

The situation almost made Peter cringe. ‘Don’t you guys have a Summer outfit?’ he said.

Gamora greeted him with a scowl as she dismounted from her broom and walked over to him. ‘We don’t have the money, Peter,’ she said, almost panting. The heat had drawn more energy from her than normally desired.

‘Shame,’ he said and watched her dump the broom and thick blue coat on the ground beside the drinks stand, roll up her shirt sleeves as far they would go, and then tuck the end of her braid into layer at the top. She tipped her head back, before picking up the biggest bottle of water and proceeding to pour it all over her face. ‘Because this really isn’t the weather for leather coats, let alone boots! You know, you could at least take off the thick gloves.’ He pointed to one, after noticing it still stuck in the sleeve of her coat on the floor.

Gamora didn’t answer, just continued her scowl while the last trickles of water emptied onto her forehead. Peter tried not to stare for too long the sight was scaring him while other places were starting to get a bit too excited.

‘Hey! What’s with that look?’ he said, turning away.

‘My Sister probably doesn’t appreciate you pointing out the obvious,’ Nebula abruptly shouted from up high, her broom floating barely a metre or two above their heads. When he looked up to direct a scowl at her, she added mockingly, ‘oh, I’m sorry, _your majesty_ ,’ with a little bow.

His scowl faltered for a second. ‘Oh, come on, my Dad is the _President_ of Intergalactic Corporations, not the _King_ ,’ he said, a quick glance at the soaking Gamora showed she sided with her Sister.

‘Well, he likes to think he is,’ she said, walking back to her coat and broom.

‘Yes, _he_ does,’ Peter countered, while Gamora reluctantly slipped back on her thick coat and flung her leg over her broom. In a flash, she was up in the air and beside her Sister. ‘But not me. I’m still the same old Peter Quill, by the way, the one you know and love.’

‘Only now with enough savings to finance the school if it went bankrupt seven times in a row.’ Nebula carefully lowered her broom until her feet almost touched the ground as so to speak with Peter directly. ‘Why don’t you buy us Summer kits, hmm?’ she said, sticking her face in his, her dark-oak brown skin covered in the same layer of sweat as Gamora.

‘I told you.’ Peter attempted to hold gaze with her hazel eyes but it made him rather uncomfortable. ‘Because I want nothing to do with that self centred jerk. My Father is just as bad as yours remember.’

There was a beat where Peter felt certain she would hit him.

‘I can accept that,’ Nebula shrugged, nonchalant, before pulling away and flying back up to her Sister. ‘ _Daddy_ is such a generic stick in arse, I doubt he is one of a kind,’ she declared and then disappeared up into bright enough to cloak her presence.

Gamora and Peter shared an amused look.

‘When do you think you’ll finish practice?’ he said, a hand reaching up to shield his eyes from the Sun as it suddenly moved behind Gamora’s figure. ‘Because I don’t think my back could hold another ice cooler full of one litre bottles, let carry it all the way from the school building again.’

She laughed at his exaggeration of the pain. ‘Why not get Groot to deliver the next batch then? They’re a big lad.’

‘They’re also Russian, for one!’ Peter said. ‘Just looking at this kind of weather would probably make them writher up on the spot or something.’

‘Really?’ Gamora raised an eyebrow, tilting her head with a smile. ‘Because I’m sure I saw them and Rocket up in the stands only a few minutes ago. Russians have summers the same as everyone else, you know, Peter. In fact it can get very hot in the same places it gets very cold.’

‘I may have exaggerated,’ he wriggled a flat hand in the air. ‘How come you know so much then?’

‘Groot told me.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I asked them.’

‘Why?’

Gamora held back a sigh. ‘Because I care, Peter. Unlike you, I don’t choose to pay attention to the ones I want to get in bed with. I swear you could be as bad as Stark, if you tried hard enough.’

‘Um, excuse me? _Unlike me_?’ he said, mimicking his shock. ‘I don’t do that either. I just _sometimes_ a bit distracted by _other things_.’

‘“Other things,” I’m sure.’ She failed to believe him but laughed all the same. There was an impatient call from somewhere within the field and Gamora glanced over her shoulder to seek out its owner. Suddenly, she remembered Peter’s question from earlier and turned back to him, ‘we’ll finish in another hour, so find Groot and get them to bring us another cooler; we’re gonna need it.’

‘I shall do that. Where did you say you last saw them..?’

Another call from the field prevented Gamora from even thinking about answering that.

‘Sorry, Peter, a team needs their captain.’ Quickly, she twisted her broom around and, like a bullet, shot off towards the centre of the pitch.

Peter sighed. The Sun was still too bright for him to make out Gamora’s figure in the air so he heeded her advice and headed towards the staircase leading up the audience stands in search of their friend Groot. The humidity made even trekking the completely shaded stairs a draining task. By the time Peter reached the top, he was well out of breath and it seemed even hotter up here.

Fortunately, there didn’t appear to be many watchers for this practice session so tracking down Groot’s whereabouts hadn’t become too daunting.

Unfortunately, wherever they were, it was not in this stand. Instead, Peter spotted a group of recognisable and considerably friendly people. He made his way over to them.

Sat up near the shade of the teacher’s tower, the Slytherin beater Bucky Barnes had his prosthetic arm around Gryffindor Steve Rogers, who was sat next to Hufflepuff Clint Barton and Slytherin Natasha Romanoff. Unlike the relaxed posture of her male companions, Natasha was leant forward on her knees, eyes scanning the field.

‘Hello, strangers,’ Peter said, upon his approach.

All looked over bar Natasha.

‘Nice shorts, Quill,’ Bucky said with a flash of his winning smirk.

‘Thanks,’ Peter managed, just about without blushing.

Anyone who was anyone appreciated the seductive charm of James Buchanan Barnes. At least that’s what Peter had told himself since Year 3. Bucky’s long brown hair was tied up in a bun and his pink skin appeared just as sweaty as the players on the field.

Peter tried not to pay attention to it. Today was very hot indeed. ‘What are you _lowlifes_ doing out here in this weather?’ he said, moving on swiftly.

‘Natasha’s here to support Pepper,’ Steve said, pointing a thumb in her direction. ‘And me and Buck have nothing else to do since our O.W.L.s ended the other day, so we thought we join her.’

The sudden and unrelenting reminder of exams was as vicious as usual. ‘Ah, lucky,’ Peter said. ‘I still have another one on Friday.’

‘Shouldn’t you be revising for it then?’

Subtle much.

‘Ah, come on, star spangled man with a plan,’ Bucky said with a pock in Steve’s side. ‘Let the guy have some time off for a bit.’

Peter could feel the blush coming back again. He glared forwards in annoyance.

‘Coming from the guy who didn’t stop revising for anything, that’s rich,’ Clint said with a bitter tone. Peter recognised Clint from his potions class. He didn’t know much about the guy and they rarely spoke in those lessons since Clint liked to detach himself off into the corner. Something about observing better from a distance. Maybe that was it. Peter just wasn’t smart enough for Bucky to notice him.

‘That’s just means I understand the importance of wanting to take a break, Clint,’ Bucky’s voice brought Peter back to the discussion at hand.

‘Well, I was actually until Gamora texted me and said she needed some water ASAP,’ Peter said. He gathered the impression a conversion changer was needed so mention the first thing that popped into his head. ‘You guys going to Stark’s party on the last day of school?’

‘Who isn’t?’ Clint said, bluntly. ‘He invited everyone, as if the whole school wants to be invited.’

‘It is Stark,’ Peter said. ‘The only one worse than him is his older Brother Howard.’

‘That’s very true,’ Bucky said making eye contact with him.

God, his eyes were beautiful. _Shut up, Brain_.

Abruptly Peter remembered his main reason for being up here. ‘You guys seen Groot Flora anywhere?’

Bucky and Steve immediately shook their heads with a ‘nope’ and ‘no, sorry.’ Clint just shrugged.

‘They’re in the audience stand next to us.’ Natasha had been so absent minded from their conversion Peter’d almost forgotten she was there, what with this heat and the presence of James Buchanan Barnes. Her red hair looked just as lovely here in the shade.

‘Thanks, Natasha.’ Peter jumped down to the row under them, getting an abrupt burst of searing sunlight along with this decision. ‘See you guys around then,’ he said with a wave.

Peter appeared to have the same luck with the next stand and the one after that. Descending the fourth audience stand, he feared maybe he’d headed in the wrong direction at the beginning and the last audience stand he’d check would be the one containing Groot.

Or none of them would contain Groot, and that would be worse.

Such was not the case, as when he reached the top of this audience stand, the unmistakeable cackle of Rocket floated across the humid atmosphere. Peter glanced over the stand, panting, and spotted Groot in the sensible shade of the teacher’s tower - it seemed everyone had got the same idea about that.

Peter thought he might cry. Yes, the heat was that bad.

‘Groot, buddy, am I glad to see you,’ Peter practically shouted as he made his approach on them in the corner.

Groot, despite having moved over to England for 3 years now, possessed limited vocabulary of the English language. They could read and write as well as any native speaker, plus from what Peter gather they understood it pretty fluently as well. It just seemed when it came speaking some, Groot appeared to be at a brick wall.

Although he did happen to know how to say one sentence perfectly.

‘I am Groot,’ Groot said, eyes bright to show they were happy by Peter’s appearance. They were big with the body language helped to indicate what they meant each time they announced their name.

‘Yes, you are,’ Peter said.

Sitting beside them was Richard Fewll. A significantly short, dark-skinned, scruffy boy with big fuzzy black hair and lots of eyeliner. He insisted on being called Rocket because his surname sounded like _fuel_ and would often verbally threaten anyone who didn’t do so. ‘You got a reason for gazing at my partner, Quill, or do you need something?’

Behind them, Drax Destron appeared to have fallen asleep in the top corner of the stand. Propped up against the fabric coated wall of the teacher’s tower, Drax’s shirtless chest rose up and down slowly. His eyes were closed, obviously.

Beside him was Angela Odinsdottir, Gamora’s _lively_ girlfriend. She was busy on tablet in her lap so probably hadn’t noticed Peter’s arrive. Quidditch never managed to interest her regardless of her girlfriend being the team captain.

‘Hi, Angela,’ Peter said.

She looked up at him and smiled, genuinely, ‘hello, Peter.’

‘Oi, Quill, don’t just ignore me.’ He really was a rather short person since Rocket had to stand up on the row of wood used as seating as so to get in Peter’s face. People liked doing that today. ‘Answer my question.’

Slowly Peter turned his gaze to him. ‘I happen to be staring at Groot because I just spent a significant amount of my energy in this horrific heat trying to find them. Forgive me, if I’m a little overly pleased to see them.’

Rocket scowled like he didn’t believe him. What was there to not believe? He turned around to Groot. ‘Was his staring making you uncomfortable?’

Groot shook their head.

‘You’re lucky, Quill,’ Rocket said moving back down into a seated position. ‘Why you trying to find them anyway?’

The heat had almost made him forget. ‘Gamora needs more water and my back can’t stand carrying another cooler from the school building to here. She figured you wouldn’t mind doing so.’ This way it seemed like Gamora was asking that of them, not Peter.

‘I am Groot.’

‘Can I take that as a yes?’ Peter said, unsure.

‘We wouldn’t want our Lady Gamora and her team to perish in this heat?’ Rocket said.

Groot shook their head again and they both moved to stand up. Peter jumped up to Angela and Drax’s row to get out of their way.

‘Let travel forward through hostile terrain in search of necessary sustenance,’ Rocket said, reaching up for Groot’s hand.

Realising what he wanted, Groot reached down and then past his outstretched hand, instead wrapping both their arms around Rocket’s waist and lifting up onto their shoulder, where one would normally assume a guy of Rocket’s pride to reject a move like this but he seemed to love it.

Tapping Groot’s shoulder in the character of a cowboy and shouting, ‘forward my gigantic mobile tree,’ before grunting ‘you better not fucking drop me down those stairs, you dope.’

Peter watched them disappear off the stand before turning back to Angela. ‘Do you think he’s really asleep?’ he said, indicating Drax.

‘I’m not actually sure,’ Angela said.

‘I find it hard to do anything peaceful with Rocket and Groot around,’ Drax’s voice practically made both of them jump. He didn’t open his eyes, however. ‘Maybe with them gone I can actually take this nap properly.’

‘You know what that’s not such a bad idea.’ Peter moved back down a row and then laid back across the wooden plank. His sore feet reached out over the edge of the shade and he dozed off with glow of Sun warming them up just right.

 

* * *

 

 

**Light Feet - First Step (1st Year)**

Natasha’s ballet shoes were the last thing she needed to unpack. She had placed them at the bottom of her trunk for a reason, to prevent that part of her life from ruining her first day at Hogwarts. Her first day at the rest of her life.

The Slytherin dorm room she’d been placed in was almost empty. Everyone else had disappeared off on tours of the school or to one of the many courtyards placed on site, so she was in relative privacy when she took the shoes in her hands and sat on the edge of her bed. They were old, faded, some of the silk had frayed at the edges but the memories were still strong as ever.

Funny how things never turn out the way you want. Sighing, she let the shoes slide from her hands to the floor and then pushed them under the bed with her feet.

‘I don’t much about dancing but I’m pretty sure that’s not the best place for your ballet shoes,’ said a voice from across the room.

It made Natasha jump and instinctively she reached under her pillow before remembering her knife wouldn’t be there anymore.

Glancing over she realised the voice resonated from a boy, also sat on his bed at the other end of the room, near the door. Not much of a threat, although she remained wary of his presence. He had brown hair and pink skin with a curious little smirk slowly stretching across his face. Irritating. Natasha could knock him over in less than a minute. She chose not to, it’s what Nanny would have wanted.

‘It’s rude to stare,’ she said. Natasha made a point of firmly sliding off her bed and going back to organising her clothes laid out on its quilt, like she had been until her shoes were revealed.

‘I wasn’t staring,’ the boy continued. He must have been ignoring Natasha’s efforts to appear obviously uninterested. ‘I was merely looking across my new dorm room and you happened to catch my eye.’

Natasha didn’t reply. She kept her eyes focused on the clothes in front of her. Shirts needed to be folded neatly to avoid creasing. Her shirts and trouser were to remain separate. Socks have to be matching before rolled into each other. Just like Nanny taught her.

‘That’s a lot of organisation for a little girl like you.’ Abruptly the boy materialised at the end of her bed.

Natasha must have been too engrossed in her organising, she hadn’t heard him move. That was a good sign. Nanny would be happy; the instincts they taught her were beginning to fail. When she looked at the boy again his smirk grew wider. It was no use. She would have to at least talk to him before he left her alone.

‘What would you know?’ she said. ‘Boys are terrible at organising anyway.’

His smile faulted at that and the hands that were about to lean on her bed hesitated.

 _Good_! This action would have creased her clothes. Natasha felt it was time to call it a victory when the grin returned in tenfold.

‘That was _mean_ ,’ the boy said, huffing out a laugh. ‘You should know, you sound just like my friend Steve, trying to be all tough and stubborn because you think being soft makes you weak.’ She must have looked surprise at his mature logic because he then added, ‘it’s what his Mother says about him. My friend Steve.’

Annoyed nonetheless, Natasha regarded the boy with a scowl and then to her revelation, his entire demeanour changed. His grin disappeared, his eyebrows furrowed. It was so unexpected it took Natasha a moment to notice with, all this combined, the boy looked concerned.

‘I’m not trying to be your enemy here,’ he said, sincerely. ‘The dorm was empty, bar you and me. I thought we could talk. Get to know each other. Become friends. If you want? If not I’ll leave you to your unpacking and go find someone else. What do you say?’

Nanny had indeed instructed her to make friends, said it would help her _settle in_ since she _couldn’t spend all her time with the Barton boy_. Making friends was the perfect way to find herself through other people. And although this boy had originally irritated her, the vibe, which her instincts picked up, wasn’t one of a threat.

Natasha held out her hand. ‘Natasha Romanoff.’

The boy took it gladly, smiling again. ‘James Barnes,’ he said. ‘But most call me Bucky.’

‘Bucky? Why are you named after a rabbit?’

‘Rabbit..?’ Bucky gazed at her, befuddled, with no idea what she was on about. Then his eyebrows rose. ‘Oh, you must be thinking of Bugs Bunny. Not Bucky Bunny. Different consonants. Is English not your native language?’

‘No,’ Natasha said. She felt it was an appropriate to answer the question he’d predictably ask next, so she did. ‘Russian is.’

‘Really? You don’t have much of an accent.’

 _I wasn’t allowed to talk often,_ Natasha could feel her lips about to say this before she fortunately took control. ‘I didn’t live there for very long. My…’ she thought of a word other than “parents” since hers meant nothing to her now, ‘family moved to America when I was very little before settling in Ireland.’ This was where the Barton family took her after her rescue.

‘Ireland you say?’ Bucky pointed an intrigued finger at her, however, Natasha got the impression his sentence was rhetorical. He’d heard her the first time. ‘That’s where my friend Steve comes from. I can introduce, if you like?’

‘I would like to finish my packing first, if that’s alright?’ Natasha said.

‘That’s swell.’ Bucky shrugged, seemingly unphased by her current rejection. She made the right choice by befriending him. He shuffled around to the opposite side of Natasha’s bed and then jumped up onto the bed next to it. The owner hadn’t even unpacked yet. Their suitcase lay at its foot, gathering dust. ‘It’s a shame only Year 6s and above can get into other house dorms or else I would bring him to you. I wasn’t lying when I thought you two would get on.’

‘I’m sure you weren’t,’ Natasha said, smiling. She picked up the pile of her shirts and begun to tuck them into the drawers next to her.

Bucky watched her do this, considering the options, and then said, ‘do you know where the courtyard with a large metal globe in the middle is?’

Once the shirts were settle the skirts started to join them. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure I can find it.’ They had taught her to navigate buildings twice the size of this and it was one of the few skills she wished to remain.

Bucky appeared satisfied with that answer. ‘Alright. Well, when you’ve finished here, come and find me in that courtyard and I’ll introduce you to Steve. What do ya say?’

‘I like that idea,’ Natasha looked him in the eye as she said that.

Bucky beamed, ‘swell.’ He slid off the bed and made his way to the dorm room exit.

He was halfway out the door when Natasha, added, ‘Bucky,’ he stopped and glanced her way, ‘your friend and I don’t seem to have much in common. What makes you so sure we’ll get on?’

‘It’s Steve Rogers. Everyone loves this guy. Anyone with sense that is.’ The smirk reappeared for one last time and then he left.

¬

Now with something to look forward, Natasha worked fast and swift to pack away the rest of her things. With skirts finished, trousers made an appearance before the socks were dotted around her underwear on the drawer below. Another drawer was available right at the bottom but Natasha thought it would be best to save it for anything else she picked up over the course of the year. Clicking her trunk shut, she slid it under her bed, being careful not to let it disturb her shoes and then headed off to find this courtyard.

All of 7 minutes later and Natasha was positive she’d found the correct place despite the fact the globe looked nothing like how she imagined. In the corner, she spotted, her friend, Clint on a bench in the corner, reading a book, and so made her way over to him.

Clint Barton, the only Barton family member at the same age as her. Like his parents and Auntie, Clint was kinda and considerate, helping Natasha patiently adjust to her new lifestyle. He possesses the family’s signature appearance of pink skin and light brown hair similar to his older Brother, Barney Barton, who flanked Natasha by 4 years. However, unlike his Brother, Clint was deaf, an occurrence obtained environmentally rather than from birth, but Natasha understood both sign language taught by Nanny, so they had little trouble communicating.

‘Hello,’ she said when she reached him. He didn’t respond so she tapped him on the shoulder and, when he looked up, signed it instead.

Clint smiled, put down his book in his lap and signed back, _hi_.

 _Why aren’t you wearing your hearing aids?_ she asked. It would be better to remain standing to make her signing clearer to see, so she did.

Clint shrugged sheepishly. _I can’t find them. I am hoping I forgot them or else…_ he shrugged again, this time discontentedly for if he had lost them the punishment from his parents was sure to be a severe, let alone the teasing from his Brother.

 _I told you to write a list_. Natasha gave him a look which emphasised that sentence.

 _Yes you did and I should have listened_.

‘Not literally it would seem,’ once again Bucky’s voice made Natasha jump. Her head darted in his direction.

Clint frowned at him.

Natasha asked for Clint if he’d been able to hear what Bucky had said. ‘You can understand sigh language?’

Bucky signed and spoke at the same time, ‘not fluently although I’m almost there. Steve on the other hand, he picks up languages better than me. He’s the reason we’re learning. He’s deaf in one in ear, so we learnt just in case the other ear went as well. Speaking of which,’ he gestured to the blond boy, ‘this is Steve Rogers.’ 

He did as Bucky did, sighed hello as well as saying it.

¬

 _Outtake line_ :

What do you think it is that attracts them so much to the bow and arrow? – Lydia to Natasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoever Said A Crowd Was A Bad Thing?: [Unbeta-ed like my usual shite so let me know about those mistakes. Peter has a crush on Bucky. But then so does every one else. It's Steve they're all in love with, though.]
> 
> Light Feet: [I got the sign language name from here: [x](http://your-fave-is-bi.tumblr.com/post/97134835122/furiouscuddles-blandmarvelheadcanons-clint) ]

**Author's Note:**

> Also, check this out: [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OnGGTC36mdY)


End file.
